1 Chapter 1
For Dave, because he loves the magic of Christmas.
“You look frazzled, dear,” Garth Morgan’s mom said when Garth and his son Adam came through the door of his parents’ home on Christmas Eve, heavily laden with gifts. “I told you not to leave it until the last day.” She set down her wooden spoon and took some of the bags.
Garth kissed her cheek and tried not to roll his eyes. His mother could spot an eye roll even when her back was turned. She’d embraced online shopping in a big way and had had all her gifts delivered, wrapped, and put away by mid-October. Garth, as usual, had left everything until the last minute.
“Did you remember to get me a Poinsettia for the bay window in the den?” she asked.
“Oh, shit, I forgot. Sorry.” He glanced at his son, who was dancing excitedly in place. The redheaded eight-year-old was happy to finally be at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house, where he would be spoiled rotten for the duration of their stay.
“Never mind, it wasn’t important. I should have got one last week,” Garth’s mom said, helping Adam out of his thick parka.
“I’m sorry, mom, but it’s been a hell of a—”
“Cookies!” a newly unencumbered Adam said, making a beeline for the cooling rack on the kitchen island.
“They’re still warm from the oven,” Garth’s mom cautioned. “I haven’t even decorated them yet. I thought you could help me with that later.”
“Too late,” Garth said, watching his son stuff a cookie into his mouth. He knew he should try and impose some discipline, but as he’d almost said, it’d been a hell of a day. Garth just wanted to sit down, kick off his shoes and…
“Looking forward to Christmas and Santa?” Garth’s mom asked Adam, who, despite a mouthful of partially-chewed cookie, made a sour face.
“What?” she asked.
“Later,” Garth mouthed.
“Okay,” she said, looking from Adam to Garth.
“Do you have any eggnog?” Garth asked, knowing this would be a long explanation, and he was in need of fortification.
She frowned. “Yes, but you don’t like…” His mom shook her head in confusion, but for once didn’t ask any awkward questions.
“Just make sure it’s more nog than egg. I need it.”
She shot him a concerned look over her shoulder as she opened the fridge door. “Adam, dear, why don’t you go help Grandpa set up the toy train around the Christmas tree?”
Garth could hear Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker drifting down the hallway.
“Can I take Grandpa a cookie?” Adam asked, picking up two.
“I’m sure he’d like that,” Garth’s mom smiled and ruffled her grandson’s hair.
The old man was diabetic, but would eat a cookie just to please his only grandchild.
A jug of eggnog and two glasses were placed on the table in the breakfast nook. Garth sank down on a chair and poured himself a large measure; his mother settled herself in the chair opposite, waiting expectantly.
* * * *
Garth had decided Christmas would be cancelled that year. His holiday spirit had left along with Jerry—his cheating lower-than-whale-shit-on-the-bottom-of-the-ocean bastard of a boyfriend—when he’d walked out of the house and their lives a couple weeks before Thanksgiving.
But Garth’s mom, sensible as ever, had pointed out there was still Adam to consider. Her grandson, she reasoned, was at the age where Christmas still held magic, but might not for much longer
“Come spend the holiday here,” she’d told him. “Your old room is always ready, and I can turn my sewing room back into a bedroom for Adam.” No doubt sensing victory was within her grasp, she pressed her advantage and insisted the two of them stay until New Year’s. “School will be out for the holiday, so you both will be free.”
Garth taught middle school science, while Adam attended the nearby elementary school.
So, knowing he would never hear the end of it if he refused, Garth had packed up the car and made the fifteen mile trek south to Ann Arbor, Michigan, stopping at a liquor store and the shopping mall on the way to buy gifts.
Garth’s dad was easy. A couple pairs of socks and a bottle of single malt Scotch. It was what Garth bought every year, but his dad seemed to like them. “Warms me up at both ends,” he always said.
Adam was more difficult. His wish list seemed to change hourly, depending on what TV commercial was currently being broadcast or what his friends said they were going to get. But eventually Garth and Adam had fought their way through Toys ‘R’ Us—a mob scene on Christmas Eve if he’d ever seen one—and a couple other stores, and Adam had been mollified. So what if Garth would be paying off the credit card bills until Easter? His son was happy, and there’d been precious little happiness in their house since Jerry, the evil, slime-ball-lying-sack-of-sh…
“Daddy?” Adam’s sweet voice pulled Garth out of his downward spiral. “What can we get for Grandma?”
“Good question.” Garth looked around the crowded mall, inspiration eluding him. Maybe he’d be able to think of something after lunch. He steered the two of them toward the food court. But just as in the Bible story, there was no room at the inn. The crowds around all the food vendors were at least three-deep and there wasn’t a seat to be had at any of the tables.
What did I tell you? Garth heard his mom’s voice admonishing him in his head.
